


prisoner of my past

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Assassin!AU, Gen, Murder, based somewhat loosely on prisoner of my past from spies are forever, blood mention, brooke and christine and michael are mentioned in like two lines, children assassins, clyde’s there, russian jeremy, somewhat detailed violence, the squip is a mob boss leader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 22:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: they taught me how to killwith efficiency and skilland took me from my family~~~“Wh-When’re we gonna go home?”“You’re going to be here for a while, sweetie. You’re going to be a big help to the cause.”
Relationships: Jeremy Heere & Jeremy Heere’s Mother, Jeremy Heere & The Squip
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	prisoner of my past

Jeremy was four when his mother told him he was going to help her at work. Kneeling in front of him, her blue eyes he got from her fixed on his, she explained that he was going to be a big help, that he was going to be able to prove himself. But he had to keep it a secret from his dad, his dad thought he wasn’t going to be able to and make him stop. 

So he agreed. It was fun, at first. He got to go with his mom in her car, and he got to see inside the big facility. There were big doors that opened for his mom, and there were lots of men and women walking around. He got a piece of chocolate from the woman at the big desk. 

He ate it in small, careful bites as he listened to the man and his mother argue over his head, talking about him being a child, whether or not he’d actually be able to do it, whatever that meant, and if Maria— his mother— would be willing to give him up. 

His mother reassured the man that he’d be fine. The man argued for a minute or so more, and Jeremy looked up, pudgy hands a bit sticky with chocolate. The man looked down at him, thinking for a moment, before nodding. “He’ll do.” 

“Wh-When’re we gonna go home?” Jeremy asked, eyes bright and voice stuttering just a little bit. His mother sighed. 

“You’re going to be here for a while, sweetie.” She said, in her honey-sweet voice. The one that told Jeremy he wasn’t actually being a sweetie. She patted his curls. “You’re going to be a big help to the cause.”

It didn’t take too long for Jeremy to figure out he wouldn’t be going home. The war became his life. His days were filled with training— weapons, languages, how to lie and evade capture. It was a game to him. It was fun, how the gun let off a large noise, how they praised him every time he got a good hit. 

He killed his first man when he was six. The man had apparently hurt a lot of people, they told him. He’d been taking money from people who deserved it. So he had to kill. It was his first big mission, and he was determined to make them proud, with the fake dirt smudged across his pale, freckled face. They told him if he didn’t do it right, he’d be punished. He knew what being punished meant. He’d heard the screams. He’d screamed himself. 

It was an easy job. Lure him away, into the alleyway, and use his young age to his advantage. It was so easy for people to trust a scared, crying little boy who wanted to find his mommy. Even when that boy pulled a gun on them and shot them in the head. 

Jeremy hadn’t expected the blood. They’d told him about it, yes. But it was red and sticky and pooled everywhere, and it smelled terrible. It stuck to his shoes, and even after he was picked up in the van, he could still smell it, could still hear the thud as the man fell. He clutched the man’s briefcase to his small chest.

That night, he cried, in his little bed in the barracks. He was the only one in that specific wing, and no one heard. He’d gotten good at being quiet about his emotions. Emotions got you killed, they told him.

As he got older, his education increased. Agility, hand to hand combat, etiquette, poisons, how to flirt and get close to other people. By the age of thirteen, he’d killed twelve men, four women, and five children under the age of sixteen. He was a killing machine, it was simple. An assassin, a spy, a traitor. No one suspected the small curly haired boy with the stutter, until he was slipping cyanide in their wine, or slitting their throat with a dinner knife. And even then, he was clean, emotionless. 

The nightmares plagued him. He could still hear their screams, their cries of pain. Not all of his kills were easy. Not all of them were honorable. It took him another three years to run away, stealing away in the middle of the night. He returned home, only to find that nothing was the same. His father was gone, and his mother was too preoccupied with a laughing, bouncing baby girl to care. So he ran again, fleeing the country with only counterfeit money, a fake passport, and a gun tucked into his boot. He couldn’t contact his family, it was the only way to keep them safe. 

Then he met a man who called himself Squip. He’d promised Jeremy a way to get his family back— do what he asked, and he’d clear his name and eradicate all the evidence of his assassinations. But if he didn’t… well, he had enough information for Jeremy to end up in jail for life. 

He’d been hiding in America. At seventeen, he was supposed to be enrolled in school, and he easily counterfeited papers for schooling and housing. He pretended to live with his ‘grandmother,’ who was truly just him with a fake voice, making excuses for her absence.

He’d been getting better. He’d made friends, pretending to be someone else. Michael and Christine and Brooke, all sweet and nice, and eating up the lies he told. And then Squip happened. 

“Just steal one bomb, and I’ll give your parents and sister a new home, with you. You’ll be reunited, and no hard feelings.” The man had said, dark coat pulled up around his neck, only the steely blue eyes appearing from under the brim of his hat. “But if you don’t succeed…” He drummed his fingers on the briefcase, containing all of Jeremy’s files. “Well.”

So Jeremy did as asked, and it hadn’t turned out okay. He’d ended up back where he always ended up, his few belongings shoved into his bag, the only evidence left of his presence the cat roaming the empty apartment. “Idite syuda, Clyde.” He said, reverting back to his usual Russian, the cat jumping into his arms, before climbing to settle on top of his backpack. He locked his apartment door for the last time, feeling the familiar cold metal of the gun in his waistband. Taping an envelope to his door, above the little metal number, filled with his rent money, he stole down the stairs, as silent as possible. His landlord would find it eventually. Until then, he had enough time to finish his preparations. He sent one last text to his friends. 

[ jeremy : you were the best friends i could have asked for. thank you. ]

Then he shattered the phone, grinding it under his heel. They’d receive the text, but he’d never be able to contact them again. He set off for the airport, where plane tickets to France were waiting for a William Conrad. And there he was again, cat head poking out of the top of his bag, with no phone, no communications, armed only with a gun and his fake ID. Just a stray cat and his stray boy, against the world. Just like old times. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely self-indulgent but honestly this boy deserves the world he never got a proper childhood and his mother was a shitty human. 
> 
> also the russian is probably wrong, considering i used google translate!! if any russian speakers are out there reading my fics i’m down for a russian lesson. (it’s supposed to read ‘come here’)
> 
> also i probably won’t be posting for the next two weeks, tomorrow is my last day of free time before i have rehearsal for the musical every day. so that’ll be fun.
> 
> side note, please watch spies are forever!! it’s super good, it’s all on youtube, and there’s a bunch of starkid actors in it if y’all are interested. it’s about *jazz hands* spies. who knew right.
> 
> anyways!! hope you enjoyed, leave a comment if you want to see more of this au or not :0
> 
> stay safe and stay wonderful loves!!
> 
> ~ percy


End file.
